So, there I was, standing there holding the pregnancy test in my hand, shocked into silence.

Several thoughts were running through my head. While I was happy for my wife, I could have waited another 20 years to have a child. She wanted a baby – she loves kids – and she was worried that we might not be able to conceive if we wait until we’re seniors. While I stood there silent, my mind was screaming:

oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap – I’m going to be a father!

The following thoughts raced through my head seemingly all at once:

• We can’t afford a child
• I’m too selfish to have a child
• I’ll never sleep again
• I’m not ready yet
• I barely know how to fix things around the house, what kind of dad doesn’t know how to change oil?
• We REALLY can’t afford to have a child
• I can kiss all my hopes and dreams goodbye

Let me explain the last one.

There are certain things that I wanted to do before life as I knew it would end. Because let’s face it, parenthood changes you. And I was resistant to ANY form of change. I was a busy guy! I had Great Novels to write, comics to draw, dreams to dream and sports to watch! Very Important Stuff that couldn’t be sidetracked by the constant wants and needs of a baby!

See, I told you that I was selfish.

But at the same time, other thoughts came to mind:

• We WILL find a way to afford a child
• It’s not all about ME
• I never slept all that well to begin with
• If not now, then when?
• This goal, to be happily married and to have a family is more important than all the others
• As for my other hopes and dreams… well, now I have even more inspiration to fulfill them
• Even though I can’t change my oil, I have lots to offer my child – such as burping on command

So there we were, standing in the kitchen, me silent and my wife waiting for my reaction. I know I hugged her, though I can’t remember what I said. I’m sure my prolonged silence betrayed whatever happy words stumbled from my lips, tinging the sweetness with sour.

We went to dinner where we discussed baby names, parenting differences and all the other things you talk about when you realize you are going to be bringing a person into this world.

In nine months, everything was about to change.

Actually, things started changing sooner than nine months.

Find out more, tomorrow.

What sorts of hopes and fears did you have when you found out you were going to be a parent? Share your story in the comments section.

Click below to continue reading Our Baby Story.

• Our baby story – Part One: “Surprise, I’m pregnant”
• Our baby story – Part Two : I’m not ready!
• Our baby story – part Three: Everything changes
• Our baby story – part Four: uh oh, my water broke
• Our baby story part Five: Hello, world

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When I was a child, books provided an escape from a world in which I didn’t fit in. I found my fingers tracing illustrations carefully crafted on pages, longing to be in a world where things made sense. A world where mysteries were to be solved and adventures to be had by children my own age.

One of my favorite series of books was in fact not so much a book, but collections of Peanuts comic strips. I have many fond memories of curling up with old Peanuts treasuries and getting lost in the world which Charles Schulz created. I felt Charlie Brown’s pain. He was a kindred soul who also had trouble fitting in with the people and world that surrounded him. I laughed at Snoopy and his wacky adventures. I wondered with Linus as he explored the human condition and thoughts theological in nature. I identified with Lucy’s misplaced rage.

Each panel, so succinctly drawn, pulled me in with the little things. The way Charles Schulz drew the lines of rain, covering most of the panel as Charlie Brown was stuck in a rainstorm. I felt that rain. The way snow lines flowed in the background, the way a single leaf would fall down from a tree. I was TRANSPORTED to that world and it felt safe and comforting.

So, why am I talking books and comics?

Well, it is these childhood treasures that shaped who I am today as surely as a pen draws a series of strokes which shape words and images. These books made me want to write, made me want to draw comics, made me want to create and bring worlds alive for others to lose themselves in.

Many worlds

The internet has become to many, what books were for me as a child – escape.

The web offers us access to more worlds than we can imagine, real and imaginary. The web also allows us something books never did – to sometimes meet our fellow world travelers. Whether it be chatting with fans on a message board or interacting with the artist themselves, the web opens up a host of possibilities which never existed before.

Sometimes, it even allows creators to meet and author a world together. A marriage of words and images. Two worlds into one.

When worlds collide

I was thrilled recently to discover Writer Dad, another writer who has strong devotion to words and his creations. I was honored when he asked me to help bring one of his worlds to life. While the first story he pitched to me is still in the creation phase, we decided to collaborate on another project he was looking to complete. One which aims to help parents and children through a sometimes difficult phase – potty training.

Told with humor and love, Number One and Two It should help ease some of the trepidation that parents feel about the subject.

Writer Dad tells a little of the story behind the story in his appropriately titled post today.

So. yeah, this is a lot of buildup for what is essentially a story about where your poo goes, but it’s not everyday that you meet someone who you can trust enough to help you build a world. The collaboration, along with the words of others I’ve met in the past three weeks since this blog began, has refueled my desire to create more worlds. Perhaps, maybe even build a world you (or your children) to get lost in.

Here is a picture of the book’s cover. I hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed creating it. You can order the wee-book below or at Writer Dad’s site.

(Special thanks to Jayniebell for the photo of the book sign)

Did you ever see that Twilight Zone episode (or the movie) where creepy six year old Anthony Fremont has used his God-like powers to remove his hometown to some other dimension and holds the townspeople hostage as his playmates? Everyone is forced to tiptoe around the boy, submitting to his every whim and saying only nice things, lest they tick him off and meet a horriying fate. The premise for the show seemed rather fantastical to me. Well, until today.

After spending this past three-day-weekend with my son, I now know how the characters felt.

E at 25 weeks - before PTS

My son, E (as I call him in this blog to protect him from future embarrassment of being associated with me), had a cold Friday. I took him to the doctor, who prescribed an oral steroid for his cough. She warned, “the medicine might make him a little cranky.”

A little cranky? I beg to differ, doc.

For three days, my son has been the Crankiest. Toddler. Ever. You know, the kind you see on the TV show, SuperNanny – an emotional rollercoaster. Everything was making him angry and frustrated. He responded by screeching, crying, throwing food, throwing toys, and things he’s never done before.

My wife, who is a lot more patient than I am, said he is simply frustrated because he isn’t able to communicate yet. As if to prove the point, he walked around baby grunting and pointing to things he wanted , er, HAD TO HAVE!

Ironically, during this crankiest of times, (when I just wanted to get in the car and drive really really far away) he was also especially needy for attention. If either my wife or I left the room, you’d think we left him alone with a meat necklace in a room full of dogs. And here’s the weird part – even though he wanted us BOTH in the room at all times, he didn’t necessarily want to interact with us. He just wanted us around.

Here is a glimpse at today’s madness:

• 4:51 p.m. - My son is racing around the living room while I crawl after him making monster sounds. He is giggling hysterically as he circles the dining room table, his head bobbing side to side, eyes squinting in excited glee. He loves this game, we play it almost daily, even when Monster Daddy is too tired to chase, so instead kinda’ lays there making growling sounds as baby races around the house.
• 4:52 p.m. - As E comes towards the sofa, where Monster Daddy is hiding, I spot a streak of cat hairball goo (the damned cat coughs one up every day, it seems). I call a time out so I can clean up.  Mommy grabs E up so he won’t step in the cat goo.
• 4:52:30 p.m. - E starts crying, wanting to resume play.
• 4:53 p.m. - Mommy is struggling to hold E as he squirms and kicks, attempting to break free. His crying has turned into a screeching yell.
• 4:58 p.m. - I finish cleaning the cat goo and am ready to resume play.
• 4:59 p.m. – E is inconsolable, face red, tears streaking down his cheeks, snot running in streams from his nose. I try to hug him. He reaches for mommy. He buries his head in her shoulder, still crying, and not relenting. In fact, he gets louder. “What’s wrong?” mommy asks.
• 5:00 p.m. - “Maybe he has PMS,” I joke.
• 5:00:10 p.m. - For some reason, mommy is not laughing.
• 5:01 p.m. - Mommy is still rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
• 5:02 p.m. - I rush to get E a bottle of milk. While he doesn’t normally get like this, the few times he’s come close to this level of crankiness, a bottle of milk has served as the antidote.
• 5:04 p.m. - E is drinking milk, sitting on mommy’s lap, tears starting to subside.
• 5:05 p.m. - E jumps down from mommy’s lap, looks around the living room and is amused by something that apparently only toddlers can see and he starts laughing. Yes, laughing!
• 5:06 p.m. - E is suddenly in a GREAT mood and running around the house again.
• 5:07 p.m. - My wife and I are staring at our son as if he’s just pulled a rabbit out of his diaper. I will not lie. I am terrified. We don’t know what set him off, why he reacted so badly, and we are both walking on eggshells not to have a repeat performance.

This was but one of several examples during the three day weekend of what I can only call episodes of Psychotic Toddler Syndrome, or PTS. I’m not sure if it had anything to do with the medicine, as it happened at seemingly unrelated times, or if it’s just because E was not feeling well, or…. if this a sneak preview of the dreaded Terrible Two’s you hear so much about (even though he’s only 16 months old).

So, if any of you parents out there feel like sharing similar stories (you know, like a PTS support group), know of ways I can avoid future PTS episodes, or have dire warnings of what hell I’m in for as a parent, please feel free to comment.

On unrelated notes:

Writer Dad was kind enough to send some link love my way and detailed the story of how we met online. He also mentioned an upcoming collaboration we are working on, which you will hear more about on Friday. So, big thanks to Writer Dad and welcome new readers.

On another unrelated note, you can now subscribe to BloggerDad via email. (just plug in your email address in the box to the right and get BloggerDad delivered to your inbox for free every day)

And yet on another unrelated note, I’ve discovered a LOT of great blogs since I started this thing a few weeks ago. I’ll be adding them to my blogroll this week and spotlighting them in future posts.

as always, thanks for reading,

Blogger Dad